Sound of the Underground
by BeardedTit
Summary: Stephanie realizes that her life is a far cry from fulfilling and returns to Trenton. As always, things aren't easy in the start. Especially when there's competition - strange men in black interfere with her new bounty hunting job, starting with her first skip…
1. No Good Advice

Greetings, everyone! This is my first Evanovich fic. I love her books, but like many here have mentioned, they are starting to lack a bit in character development. So, thank goodness for fan fiction. I am afraid Plum fics and Janet facts have become one in my head, the quality in here is STUNNING!

I listened a lot to a British girl group "Girls Aloud" while writing the first chapter, especially their song "Sexy! No no no..." I feel their energy and attitude are Steph-like. Here's a Youtube link for Sexy: watch?v=cZlttVuTgqY

Ps. Not making any profit from this.

Hope you like.

**1 No Good Advice**

_"Cos I've been sitting back, no chance of falling, hoping that nothing ever blows (no, no).." - Sexy! No no no... by Girls Aloud_

If a tree falls in a forest where no one is to see it fall, does it really fall?

If you fail at life in some other town than your hometown, does it really count as a failure? As long as you keep 'em life-praising postcards coming to your family….

I've sent none. I occasionally call. So that my mother knows I'm alive. Though it is my grandmother I dial. She has the honour of informing of my continuing existence on earth to the rest of the family. You see, mother and I differ vastly when it comes to defining goals in life. She drains life out of me whenever we communicate. She believes that a marriage and children will satisfy a good woman's heart. Unfortunately, that's what my ex-co-workers thought too in the town I left just yesterday.

It was an ex tempore decision to pack my bags and leave.

I guess I just lied. I live in a trailer. Didn't have to pack.

But back to me and my former co-workers. We had (me, Misty and Susie) gathered around the staff's kitchen table to call it a night in the seedy bar we worked in. For me, our usually nonsense chit chat ended to a sudden life-clarifying thought and a decision.

Our conversation in short:

"_Sometimes I hate this job," I had exclaimed when I glanced down my shirt and noticed the beer stains._

"_I agree," Susie agreed and applied a third layer of lip-gloss._

"_You know, it is not just the job anymore… It´s like my whole life is stuck in a rut. Something needs to change."_

"_But Steph… how about that cop that you once mentioned?"_

"_What?"_

"_That Joe or something. You have a man right there."_

"_It was in high school when we…," I hated to call it a relationship,"came acquainted. And what do you mean 'a man right there´?"_

"_You know," she replied,"a thing to change your life. A reason to settle down. Have something long-lasting, life-changing… The shitty side working here is definitely the pervs, but a plus is you get to see the town's male population. That cop Martin is really cute!"_

_I just stared at her._

"_What," Misty laughed, "what were you thinking about then?"_

"_I dunno. Like a new job."_

"_Honey. It's not like you are here to save money for medical school."_

_Ouch. That hurt. Even though I knew I wasn't doctor material._

"_Well. Yes. But."_

"_Face it. All you need is a man. Though a man always needs you more. You have to train them a little," Susie said and paused like a trained poodle herself. I wonder where she had learned her life perspectives._

_Ugh. I didn't want anything that needed to be "trained". Jeez. My own life was enough to manage._

_Misty laughed. "You need a man, quick! How about that firefighter Chris?"_

"_Chris's hands are slippery when he thinks he isn't too drunk," I replied._

"_But he likes you. You know, he would be a really good father."_

_I almost threw up at that._

Sooo… From our conversation I realized two things – I'm not good at making long-term decisions (I get distracted by Tastycakes, damn it!) and two, I really didn't need a man. Been there, done that. Men, used diapers often themselves, tend to drag trash into your house. And then they hump that trash on your kitchen table.

But most of all – something really needed to change in my life. The only thing I was now satisfying was my pastry needs.

I want more. But what, exactly?

Well, ironic that this horrifying realization ended me up in the town I escaped years ago in an equal hurry.

Yes. I was back in Trenton.

My name is Stephanie Plum, 28 years old. I am currently sitting in my trailer on Stark Street. Waiting patiently for a man called Chris O'Brien to show up. An hour ago I threatened my cousin Vinnie to give me a job as a bounty hunter. Grudgingly, he agreed and gave me a case.

I know vaguely about this job. Vinnie was never really discussed in our family – there were rumours about his sexual habits that didn't fit in Trenton normalcy. It's all about marriage, two kids, a dog and a white picket fence in here. Though I do hope that duck rumour is just a rumour – if not, I am afraid I have to castrate Vinnie for real.

When I left Vinnie's Bail Bonds, I heard Connie, his secretary, say something loudly about me and high-level skips through the open window. I guess you get lots of money from these high-levels. Suits me fine.

I have not opened the file Vinnie gave me. All I need is the skip's address and picture. How hard could this be? Not like you needed a police training to be a B-Hunter.

Wait. There he is! Helloooo, mister O'Brien...

By the way, what's a good woman anyway?


	2. Meet The Criminal

**2 Meet The Criminal… And All His Cousins?**

_Can't turn around, just to run out  
>Is there any light on the way home?<br>'Cause somewhere along I played it wrong  
>And fell into a world so far from home<em>

_Girl overboard  
>I thought I had it but I stumbled<br>And I thought I'd last forever, oh  
>Girl overboard<br>I thought I had it but I tumbled  
>And I thought no doubt about it, oh<em>

Girl Overboard by Girls Aloud

* * *

><p>Swiftly, without any solid plan, I left my car and hurried my way to O'Brien's door. Actually, I hadn't readied myself for anything, especially for a hostile attitude, because after my third knock the door opened and I was pulled inside like a lollipop out of a child's mouth. The extent of my stupidity reached me only afterwards.<p>

"Hey!" I protested and tried to shrug free. "This is man-handling!"

"Mmm. I'd love to man-handle you."

I stopped slapping at O'Brien's hands and raised my head to see his face. SCARY this up-close! He was tall, muscular, and his smile... a distortion of a smile.

"Well… anyway," I tried to collect myself. "My name is Stephanie Plum. I'm here to take you the police station as you have skipped –"

The man started to laugh. I quieted down.

"You? Hilarious," he managed, almost choking from laughter.

I felt irritation. I wasn't that amusing, was I? I straightened my spine.

"Wow! Aren't you a tough individual! Laughing, because society wants you to be held responsible for your actions! If you co-operate, this is easier –"

"Indeed it will be. Now, get on all fours and present me your _plum_ pussy," he said darkly and nodded towards his bedroom.

"I'm sure you can have sexual services in jail too," I replied uncertainly. Now was the time to run, most likely.

"Slut, I'm not kidding. They don't call me The Night Rapist for nothing."

The Night Rapist?

"Perhaps I'll come later – "

Things happened in a rush. I was thrown on his bed; my wrists were bound to the bed's frame. I guess I had truly lived a meaningless life – instead seeing a film of my past, I saw a picture of my future – raped. Dead.

No.

I reached out with my jaws and sank my teeth into his wrist, biting as viciously as I could. He made a sound and withdrew a little. I expected him to hit me, but he only stared.

"I like it rough, too," he said slowly. "But guess what I like even more?"

I didn't answer. Just hoped he got his kicks from flashy underwear and my beige grandma panties would make his dick scream in horror and drop dead on the floor. But I was pretty sure he was violence-driven.

"When I get to train a pussy."

"Uh, you mean agility? With cats?"

His smile widened. Then he unzipped my jeans and rolled them down my legs.

"A nice chastise belt you have there. I guess you're in for a heavy training."

I bit my cheek.

He left the bed and opened the big closet in the room. From there he retrieved a black whip and tested it in the air. The nasty sound it made turned my blood cold.

"Like what you see?" he asked. Then he dropped his pants. Silk-boxers? I was even more surprised when he took a bottle of expensive perfume and bathed in it, smiling. Actually, what I could detect of his home from my position, it was tastefully decorated.

So he was a crazy rapist who liked to be… neat? Maybe I ought tell him I had AIDS.

Slowly, he started to creep up on the bed. When he reached my upper side, he licked my cheek. I felt sick.

"I showered a week ago!"

He froze, then produced a ball gag and made me bit into it.

Time finally slowed down somewhat to its normal pace when O'Brien's front door was kicked in just as he yanked my thighs apart. Three big men stormed in. They were dressed in black – cargoes, tight t-shirts and all of them pointed guns at us.

Was this a divine intervention or a start of a gang-fight?

"Get your hands off the lady," one of the fridges said. He was of Latin origin.

O'Brien shook his head. "No." His fingers curled around my throat. "What makes you think I'd do that?"

I hoped this wasn't going to expand into Cold War proportions, chronologically speaking.

No chance of that.

"El tiempo se acabó," * the other Latino, the one with a tear tattoo on his face, sighed like he had laundry to do.

And then shoot at us.

A window shattered. I gasped. O'Brien let out a pained moan. He grabbed his backside, releasing me in the process. Next a blur of black threw him off of me and one of the fridges landed on him.

The tearless Latino broke my wrist-restraints.

My breathing hitched audibly when he leaned over the bed. He paused and glanced down. He didn't smile, but something made me believe that he might be… friendly.

"The situation is under control now," he whispered. Uh huh. I rose slowly to a sitting position, watching him warily, but he merely gave me my jeans and retreated with others to the living room. I spat the ball gag out of my mouth and put the jeans back on.

I heard someone snicker something about a minor flesh wound. Some thudding noises followed. The loud groan came probably from O'Brien. I wonder what he'd done to make them come after him.

I sat a while on the bed, looking at my wrists.

After a few minutes, there was a knock on the bedroom door.

"Feeling better?" It was the same man who had freed me.

I nodded. Might as well act like a big girl, considering I already wore big girl panties in the truest sense of the word.

"The car," the tear man exclaimed from the hallway and went outside.

"O'Brien's ready," the third man, who might as well be described a white dinosaur, informed.

I sprang back to life. "You're taking him? But he's mine!"

The duo looked at me.

"Oh. I'm sorry, but your boyfriend – "

"We don't have a relationship! He's my skip!"

"You serious?"

What do you mean, serious? Did I amuse them too? "Yes! I'm a bounty hunter," I grounded out.

They looked at each other.

"Look miss, we are gonna take him –"

I saw in my mind how a load of cash passed my account. To hell with a bunch of criminals, I was going to die anyway if I couldn't buy food.

"Noooo!" I leaped off the bed. "He's mine!"

They looked surprised. I descended on the Latin. We tumbled down. Unfairly, I was quickly rolled under him. And I guess some strange male honour prevented him from hitting me while I desperately clawed, scratched and tried to nip his hands with my teeth.

"Now lady, a passionate woman is an every man's dream, but this is a bit too heavy on the aggressive side," the man holding me said and suddenly lay all of his weight on me. Very effective. Dear god, like a SUV had been thrown at me. Cheek to cheek, pelvis to pelvis… It would've been an intimate embrace had we been lovers. I sniffed.

"As soon as you calm down, I let you go," he whispered.

"I am calm," I replied tersely, refusing to look into his eyes again.

Someone's phone ringed.

"Yes boss. No boss. We're still here. Having a small problem." A pause. "Well. Perhaps not so small."

I knew the speaker had looked at me. I couldn't help the irrationality. "Are you calling me fat?!" I seethed, feeling like my head was about to burst like an overripe tomato under pressure. The emotional roller-coaster was obviously much.

The man on top of me actually jerked in surprise.

"Yes. You heard," the man on the phone continued. "She's tangling with Lester on the floor. We'll be there soon as –"

He paused when he saw me zapping "Lester" with his own taser. It had dangled from his belt rather enticingly. I smiled evilly. The talking man quickly dropped his phone in order to – what? I'll never know, because he was too slow, I tased him too.

The third one, the one who scared me the most, was yet to return. Yet I handled my nerves perfectly when he re-entered the house and I let the electrical current sing.

The trio had made O'Brien a nice packet for me to collect, robes and all. I had to hurry though; I wasn't sure how long the men would be unconscious.

Smartly, O'Brien felt the sting of a taser too in case he was planning to shout attention. I grabbed his legs. Slowly, we backed down from his house into the street. His head clanked against the stairs.

Shit, he was heavy.

I looked around and saw a sitting kid looking at me suspiciously from the curb.

"Twenty if you help me roll him into the van?" I asked. He shrugged nonchalantly, came over and took hold of O'Brien's upper side. Together, we successfully loaded O'Brien into my transportation.

After that I ran back to his apartment and left the taser at Lester's side. If fate was merciful, I wouldn't see them anytime soon.

Just as I started my engine, I noticed a black Porsche glide to a stop nearby. Jeez. You wouldn't expect to see those in this neighbourhood.

* * *

><p>* Time's up<p> 


	3. 3 Hauling in the Criminal

**3 Hauling in the Criminal**

_Cos baby this is real life__  
><em>_You wanna get your mind on your occupation__  
><em>_The moment's got to feel right__  
><em>_Cos honey if it don't then get out the station__  
><em>_Cos baby this is real life__  
><em>

_You've gotta get it, you've gotta get it and pretty soon__  
><em>_You'll find the fingers fit__  
><em>_You've gotta get it, you've gotta get it__  
><em>_And find your groove before the others trip!_

**Real Life** by **Girls Aloud**

* * *

><p>The trip to the police station went smoothly for the first four minutes. Then adrenaline dissolved from my bloodstream and emotions took charge. Simultaneously, I was proud of myself, ashamed and afraid. As if I had taken first hundred steps of a hellish marathon, without proper running shoes.<p>

And when I glanced at my skip, I realized how imbecilic my actions had been. What if he came after me? I hadn't exactly proven myself to be a dangerous one to mess with.

Indeed. When his penalty done, what would stop him?

I was quickly nearing a state of a full panic attack so when the first insult was hurled from the back of my mini house, I was fast to park to the nearest parking lot and roll O'Brien along the car floor with my foot. I wish I had enough strength to throw him around.

"Bitch. How original," I said to him. "Was the first year in school too arduous?"

"What you gonna do? Pinch me, _bitch_?"

I didn't answer. I took my dirty kitchen rag, pushed it into his mouth and wrapped my nylons around his head to keep the rag in so that he could have a good and long taste of my kitchen dirt.

After that, I concentrated on watching his eyes. For 60 seconds he raged, huffed and puffed but then managed to come to terms with his helpless position and looked back at me in silence. When I stayed stoic, careful to avoid a facial emotion, I could see a glimpse of uncertainty in his eyes.

It wasn't remotely enough. He should be scared, feel the threat of being violated. Then _be_ violated.

I ought to take a plunger and shove it up his anus. Savour the feeling, perhaps smoke for the first time in my life. Tape it. Re-run it.

This was a true predicament. What was he doing free, the lowest shit of the world?

I opened his file. Then I speeded to the police station.

I remembered that I had an axe somewhere in my van (at one point my portable stove had broken down and I had to chop wood for camp fires, mind you), so when I freed O'Brien's legs and raised the axe in warning, it was rather easy to get him moving in compliance. Once inside the station, I asked two officers to walk him behind the bars. Then I stormed to the desk.

"What's he doing free?" I asked, slamming O'Brien's file on the counter.

"I can't tell you," the officer sitting told me.

"You can't tell me or WON'T tell me?"

"Um. No. Just can't tell you. Thank you for bringing – "

"Stephanie?" someone interrupted us. I turned. Of all people… it was Joseph Morelli.

"Stephanie Plum?" he asked again, even though he seemed already sure it was me.

I turned back to the officer serving me. "Michael", his tag said.

"So it must be something serious, huh?" I asked him. Michael took a quick look at Joe.

"Uh, yeah."

I wasn't surprised when Joe took a hold of my hand and tugged so that we were face to face again.

"It's me – Joe," he said, grinning widely. I was a bit taken aback at his healthy exterior – he stood tall and erect, his skin smooth and clear, smile almost unnaturally white. I guess I had hoped him eventually succumb to a doughnut diet when I had heard his career choice.

"I know who you are," I replied and turned back to Michael. "I guess I get the receipt, then? Or how does the paper-work work in bounty hunting?"

"You are a bounty hunter?" Joe asked behind me, sounding incredulous. Jeez. The man was not taking the passive-aggressive hint I was sending. I didn't reply. Then Joe dragged me across the hall into a little room, locking the door behind us. I fumed. The ordeal with O'Brien was still keeping me on edge, so the rough touch of another man wasn't helping my frazzled state.

"What's wrong with you?" Joe asked after looking me from head to toe.

"Nothing," I replied.

"I haven't seen you in a while." He laughed. "Actually, we haven't talked since high school. I saw a glimpse of you every now and then. And then you just disappeared for a few years."

"Been busy," I said clip-toned.

He looked at me, obviously wondering what he was missing. We could be here all day.

It was rather easy to see what he was thinking, though. So he implies he remembers high school, yet doesn't understand what went awry between us. To put it simply, he was intellectually still a penis-lead idiot.

"Cupcake…"

"Don't call me that!" I snapped.

"Seriously, what the hell is wrong with you? We haven't seen each other since… God. Is this about the Tasty Pastry incident?"

I kept my mouth shut. I merely straightened my t-shirt, eyes fixed on the door.

"It is…," Joe whispered, awed like he was seeing a flying pink elephant. "I can't believe you're being this childish, Steph."

Ok, so much for the silent treatment. "Excuse me?!" I questioned.

He shook his head. "Who reminisces past like that? It was high school! We were kids. We did dumb things."

"No, no, no. You don't get to go down that route!"

"I didn't rape you," he said heatedly. "It was all consensual between us."

"The school's bathroom-writings of our _incident_ came as a surprise to me!"

He paused. I was eager to hear how he was going to defend himself. His eyes took a little sight-seeing tour around the room. He was struggling.

"You haven't changed a bit, Morelli."

"Stephanie, I'm not the same man," he finally said, sounding oddly sincere. But from experience I knew that his puppy-eyed act tend to lead to a loss of something on my behalf.

"Yeah. You're a police officer now," I said sarcastically. We had a little staring contest after that.

"You know… I'm starting to believe itäs you who hasn't changed," he said after an eternity, angrily, and left the room.

I bit my lip. Oh well. I had better things than Joe Morelli on my mind.

When I returned to the Bonds Office, Vinnie dropped a can of soda he was drinking. He seemed surprised to see me.

"Stephanie! Thank goodness you're okay!" Connie said.

"I got my man," I said slowly, watching Vinnie carefully.

He swallowed audibly. "Oh. You were fast."

"You want to tell me what a high-level skip is?"

"Oh. Oh. I mean yes, about that… It seems I accidentally gave you a very dangerous skip. Connie was nice to point that out… But you were already outta door, so…"

I could feel my eyes bulging out of my head. "Scared for your balls?" I whispered.

"Weapons aren't allowed in my office," he said immediately, like a threat of violence was a daily occurrence in his life.

"You get 5 % from O'Brien," I informed him curtly. I was eager to sit down and despite his horridness, a spat with Vinnie was not something I had energy for at the moment.

"What?" he exclaimed, outraged. Sad. I could see the resemblance now – money made us courageous, even when one's life was on the line.

"Jingle bells, jingle bells fell from the tree…," I sang morbidly.

Vinnie sweated, then something like "YOU'RE THE DEVIL" slithered out of his mouth and he went to his office to sulk, slamming the door behind him.

I sat down.

"Are you okay?" Connie asked.

"Super."

"Do you need a place to stay?"

"Well. Come to think of it… I do need an apartment."

"Perfect. My friend is renting her place at the moment. It's furnished and all. You can move right in."

I smiled. Finally something going right.

"And Stephanie…," she said mysteriously. "Welcome back to Trenton. As I am blessed with a gift of fore-telling… I can tell things are going to get interesting here."

Connie beamed.

Now what was that supposed to mean?


	4. Stranger Danger Meaning Ranger

**4 Stranger Danger… Meaning Ranger**

It was midnight and I couldn't sleep.

Like Connie had promised, I had been able to move into her friend's apartment straight away and yes, it was a nice little flat I now inhabited and yes, I had MONEY NOW! Ka-Ching! At that thought I did a little happy dance.

But heavy emotions swirled in my head, disturbing not only my sleep but dance moves too. Those MIB people at O'Brien's were a pure coincidence. Today, they saved my life.

What if this bounty hunting went seriously down the toilet in the future too? What else could I do? Move in with my parents? What a horrifying thought. I hadn't even called them to say I was back in town.

I went to kitchen and poured some juice. I needed to calm down. I had money. Rent was not a cause for stress for a while. O'Brien was a mistake that wouldn't happen again. And hopefully by the time he was released from prison, I was already dead or trained to kill. Connie had hinted that she knew someone who could train me. "A real life G.I. Joe," she had described the man. I wondered if he'd be up to train a person who was seriously out of shape, not to mention hated guns. Connie had said not to worry because the man owned her. Somehow that didn't make me feel any better.

I sighed. As much as I tried to rationalize my future, I still felt restless. Something was disturbing my soul, as if my personal space had been invaded.

Sometimes there's a surprisingly obvious explanation for everything. Someone had indeed invaded my space. When I returned to my bedroom, a man was sitting on my bed. He was big. Muscular. His skin mocha-latte coloured. On top of his imposing body, he had a thick wad of black hair that looked silky in the moonlight. His face was unreadable but like his body, it resembled a sharply sculpted marmor statue.

I had immediate dislike for him.

"So you're Stephanie Plum," he said in a quiet voice, almost whispering.

"And you are?" I managed, holding the glass with both hands so it wouldn't drop or shake like a leaf midst of a storm.

"Ranger."

"And you're here because…?" I also wanted to ask why the strange nickname, but was it ever intelligent to question why Joker had a wide smile?

"You ran into my men earlier," he replied, moving to stand up.

**_Shiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiit!_**

Was he here to revenge? Was he a local drug-lord?

Standing, he hovered over me.

"I was there first," I replied tensely, taking a step back. Then added silkily, "I'm sure O'Brien is somewhere still in one piece for you to… whack his fingers off."

The man stayed blank-faced.

"Look, I don't know O'Brien personally. So you can't ransom him by threatening my life. If you leave now, I promise not to call the cops."

Still blank-faced. Double shit. He must be a psychopath too.

"Just wanted to see the cause of the eruption," he replied calmly after a pause, tilting his head slightly.

Yeah, right. And I'm a long-distance runner. Perhaps I lack in street credibility, but I'm pretty sure he just threatened me. For whatever reason, I could not understand.

I threw the juice at his face and dove at him when he blinked. I actually managed to weaken his balance and with satisfaction felt him coming down with me. He landed on the floor, I landed on him. I threw his t-shirt over his head while he squinted and ran to my front door. When I opened it, another dinosaur man waited behind it. He seemed surprised at seeing me, so I took advantage and dove at him too. Unfortunately, he was so enormous and my speed so slight, that I only bumped my head into his mountain of a chest. Quickly, he took hold of me and silenced me by putting his bear-like paw to my mouth.

"Ranger" was rather quick to follow. His blank face strained now. I guess juice attacks from females weren't a part of his usual repertoire. Must have fuelled his fire. Maybe he felt humiliated.

Ha ha.

He halted when he saw us.

"Oh man. Ranger, what did you do to her?" the man holding me groaned.

"I thought I told you to wait in the car, Tank."

Tank? Figures.

"Yeah well, I knew your wooing skills would cause something like this."

Then they just stared at each other.

"Ranger, I can hear her heart beating like she's about to meet her death," at last Tank said pointedly.

"I'm not afraid," I mumbled through his thick fingers, putting up a brave front. Ranger's eyes slid to me slowly. Like he was assessing something. I wondered if he ever accomplished anything in his life, taking so long in replying simple sentences. I bet people in line desired to kill him when he ordered at McDonalds.

"We should leave," he commented shortly.

I agreed. Unfortunately, not with the next sentence.

"She's coming with us," Ranger added and went ahead down the stairs.

I glanced upwards. Tank looked at me with a sigh and then scooped me up bridal style.

"Let's go, miss."

* * *

><p>Like a child, I traveled the ride to a destination unknown in Tank's lap in the back-seat while the great silent one drove the black SUV they had forced me into. It was a bad sign they didn't cover my eyes.<p>

I guess Tank had gone to a trance, because his paws suddenly flew away from my thighs somewhere in the middle of our trip.

"Ranger. She doesn't have any pants on."

I was glad he noticed. I was half-naked, shoeless, shivering. Like mine, I could feel Tank's muscles tense in anticipation when we both anxiously waited Ranger's reply. Perhaps we'd go back so I could have jeans. And call the cops.

"So?" Ranger replied after a small eternity.

Like a furious piranha, I lunged myself toward the driver's seat, but Tank managed to keep his boss safe, caughting me mid-air and caged me back inside his huge arms.

Ranger stayed stoic, as if a crazy person hadn't just tried to bite his ear off.

Who was this man? I glared hard and obviously was successful because he suddenly rubbed his neck, seeming to sense the imaginary knives I was sending.

We came to a sleek dark building, and Tank released me once inside the building's garage.

"Take her to seven," I heard Ranger say quietly to Tank.

I cringed. What was on seven? Torture devices?

Tank nodded toward an elevator and I followed him like a nice little puppy. I could feel his eyes on me on the ride up, which was rather unnerving.

We came to an apartment door and Tank ushered me in.

"Wait here," he said shortly and left.

I looked around. Wow. The place was like a hotel room. So neat, so clean, so modern. Glass, dark colours, steel. Did anyone actually live here? There was a minimum of personal possessions, if any. A wrist watch on a kitchen table. A set of keys next to it. But no warmth of cozy living. Maybe the place was merely a necessity, a cave for someone to sleep in occasionally.

I wandered around the living room and did the obvious –searched for weapons. Nothing usable was available though. Not even a fork to stab with.

After a while I heard a sound at the door. You know, in a horror movie the lead character might do something stupid right now. Like sneak behind the criminal and try to run out….

I was that stupid. And yes, my escapade was short-lived.

When Ranger grabbed me round the waist, my knee was fast to speed toward his groin but before any damage was done, he tackled me down to the floor.

"You have a tendency to act hostile toward men," he whispered, raising his brow like my behaviour was unreasonable.

I just lay there, staring up at his dark eyes, panting. Why wouldn't I try to defend myself? Not my fault that men appeared to do the most of inhumane deeds.

Ooh. This close I could smell a pleasant smell radiating off of him. Involuntarily, I dazed a bit.

Then Ranger rose and lifted me up. It was unsettling how smoothly he did that. His appearance didn't lie – he had strength.

I hated him. I didn't like anything he stood for - male body, male superiority, and male aggressiveness.

"Sit." He said that ominously enough, so I sat slowly on the living-room sofa.

He sat on the coffee table next to it, so that our knees were touching. I moved quickly to cover my legs with my over-sized night-shirt.

But he leaned close, so very close that our noses touched too. Mine was cold against his warm one.

It was a hypnotic experience to see his chocolate eyes from a millimeter distance. I usually watched only my face this close and that was in front of a mirror.

Perhaps he wasn't a slow thinker. In fact, he seemed to be the opposite of it. Intense. His eyes kept staring into me as if they would skewer into my soul. Cold sweat spread across my back. Suddenly, breathing was difficult.

I had to look away. Except he wouldn't let me. He raised my chin back up with his fingers.

"You've endangered your life," he said.

"I'm sure life-expectancy gets better when you let me go," I chirped in a taunting manner, sounding like a twisted Mary Poppins. What the hell was wrong with me?

"This is a dangerous business you are dealing with."

"What business? I'm not into drug-dealing."

He didn't reply, so I took my time watching his face, admiring his high cheek bones. He could have been a Dior model and made a fortune like that. But perhaps posing in front of a camera didn't give thrills like kidnapping people. Like… perhaps, killing people.

A tremor crossed my body. Ranger noticed it, obviously. He cocked his head a bit. The way he tracked his environment, perhaps nothing ever slipped from him. He was in a constant stand-by mode. And yet, appeared relaxed. Like a poisonous snake basking in sun, seemingly occupied in pleasure but all the same ready to bite viciously if it came to it.

What had made him to choose the dark side of the law? Maybe he had grown in poverty, in the streets. Would explain his soldier-like demeanour. He had adopted cruel but essential ways of survival to his environment from the start.

Most likely, he had learned to trust no one.

Ugh. What was I doing? Feeling sympathy for him? Was I already having Stockholm syndrome symptoms? No matter what his past, he had no right to kidnap people and threaten them.

I met his stare with the same coolness he was channeling.

I guess my sudden calmness wasn't satisfactory and it was time for Scary Tactics 101, because he pulled a small knife from his ankle and fingered its tip in a careless manner.

"Nice tooth-pick," I commented. He smiled.

"I run a business."

"So?" I said after a long pause. He, too, took his time replying. He flipped the knife in the air, twice, and then put it aside on the table and with elbows resting over his knees, steepled his fingers together.

He locked eyes with me.

"_So…._ it's my business when a mission fails. When a completely inexperienced, inadequate person through _nepotism_ interferes."

I frowned. He was acting like a principle, giving a lecture to a disobedient pupil. As if his criminal organization was a serious business. I munched this in silence. Guess his attitude explained the black outfits his men wore.

Hm. A serious criminal was a bad thing. I was _soooo _fucked.

I started to ramble.

"I already told you I was there first! And by the way, I was there alone. Your men were armed from teeth to toe. Looked like a circus down there!" I blabbed, letting go of my shirt, waving my arms through the air.

He laughed! Surprising how nice it sounded. Not a maniacal cackle at all, more like a warm… humming sound.

"Do you practice self-defense?" he asked when his laughter died.

"No," I replied, raising my brow. What was he up to?

"Do you exercise?"

What was this, a doctor's appointment? I wouldn't dignify to answer to that. I guess he sensed the very hostile change in the atmosphere, and moved on to the next topic.

"You have a gun?" he asked quickly.

"Okay, mister. Enough of this. I get that people like you get excitement from scaring people, but the joke has run its course. I learned the lesson – do not mess with Ranger and his band of evil Merry Men. Now let me go?"

He sighed. Was that a positive sigh? Like, "fine, you can go", or "shit, still have one to kill before my beauty sleep"?

"Someone will drive you in the morning."

"In the morning?!"

"I've had a long day. Either sleep here, or walk home without pants and shoes."

"Where are you going to sleep?"

"In my bed."

"And where is your bed?"

"There." He nodded toward a closed door.

This was his apartment?

"And where I am going to sleep?" I asked wearily. In a dog cage?

"You can sleep on the sofa. Or, if you want to… with me."

His face was very hard to read, but I knew there was a hint of a smile there.

I raised my both brows. Like hell I was going to sleep next to him. I guess this was another attempt to scare.

But then it hit me. He was obviously a person who was… how should I put it… "aware of himself and his surroundings". He must've known what an intimidating effect he could have on people – no tooth picks needed. He could kill me sans weapon.

He was testing me. Why? Did he think I was so daft I'd attack him? Ok, perhaps I had, twice already, but still…. Something didn't feel right. Was he trying to distract me from something? Again, I watched carefully his expression.

"The sofa it is, then," I replied.

He rose. "Your choice, babe." He stalled. I fumed. Then he made a quick exit to his room, closing the door behind him.

_Babe?! _Was he a pimp too? For heaven's sake.

I massaged my cold thighs. Crying felt natural, but needed to be postponed. My kidnapper would not hear me sniffling.

I settled on my right side on the sofa, swearing to sleep one eye open in case the possible women subjugator next door would have sudden ideas. Staying up all night might be easy, considering my body temperature.

An unexpected happened when Ranger's bedroom door opened again and the man appeared with two warm blankets and a pillow. He unfolded the blankets and slid them over me disturbingly carefully, as if he was wrapping a present. I wanted to tell him to keep his hands to himself but oddly, couldn't overcome the tense silence. Finally, he handed me the pillow. I gave a chilly stare but took the thing. He said nothing, looked like nothing and went back to his room.

If I'm able to leave this place alive, I'll show "Ranger" with whom he is messing with. Tomorrow, Connie's G.I. Joe and I would make a deal.

When my shivering stopped, I was out cold, both eyes.


	5. Friends and Foes

I know. Been a while. But here we go again! And thank you for the reviews!

* * *

><p>5 FRIENDS AND FOES<p>

It was 7 a.m. when I woke up. Ashamed how well I managed to sleep even when kidnapped, I got quickly up from the comfortable sofa and stretched my limbs. There was no sign of Ranger. After a pause of hesitation, I went to his bedroom door and knocked.

He didn't answer. Feeling bold, I twisted the door knob and pushed the door open… and saw no one. His bed was made. Huh. So he was already up.

"Hi there."

I jumped and turned to see Lester behind me, smirking.

I said nothing. He laughed.

"Don't worry. Ranger's gone already. I won't tell him you snooped around his bedroom."

"I wasn't snooping. I opened his door."

He looked at me for a moment. "Sure. There's breakfast for you, if you want."

I followed him to the kitchen.

"So… Ranger sent you to give me a lift home?" I asked tentatively. Lester seemed laid-back, but he was built. I suspected that all Ranger's men were capable of some, um, hard-core action if necessary. Therefore very capable of aggressiveness.

"Yeah."

"Could I…. have some clothes? Or at least pants?"

"Sure." I didn't understand his merriment until he returned from Ranger's bedroom.

"Aren't these Ranger's?" I asked, taking the black cargoes and the t-shirt Lester offered.

"Yeah. All the better. Don't worry, they are your size."

Lester's smile was infectious. I returned it. He resembled Ranger, he had same silky black hair and mocha-latte skin-colour. Though Lester was expressive. Talkative. Nice, even.

I excused myself to a neat bathroom and dressed, then suppressed a shriek when I glanced in the bathroom mirror. In short, a cave person looked back from there. Great. Self-pity wouldn't help… But considering the circumstances… A huge wave of it was about to hit me.

This Ranger person here led a fine life because he obviously had willpower. A trait that I didn't really have. But what I did have, was lazy – Wait. I am getting tiring. Indeed, what did it help to constantly list my flaws? I have to turn this train around. This crisis is a possibility. That is not meant to be solved in this lion's cave.

Yet I couldn't help a small sigh… and taking a Bvlgari bottle from the sink and sniffing it.

Damn, even Ranger's shower gel smelled perfect. So good that I actually nicked it and tucked it into the waistband of the cargoes. Call it temporary insanity, but somehow it made me feel very good.

When I returned, Lester's smile just got bigger.

"You know, for all I know you could work for us."

I laughed, then remembered what these people did for living and fell silent. Lester had no problem with that. He was a smooth talker, uncannily relaxing me while I munched the healthy breakfast I was offered.

Hm. The yoghurt was organic and it was served with fresh strawberries. And the coffee…I have never in my life tasted coffee so rich… Mmm…

"This coffee is unbelievable good," I sighed, eyes half-closed.

Lester grunted something. I opened my eyes.

"Everything ok?"

"Sure."

A though hit me. Why was I given this food? I guess I could now believe they weren't going to kill me… Maybe they needed a new female worker. Why else give me their clothes? Was I being persuaded?

"Is this what Ranger eats?" I asked in suspicion.

"Beautiful, this is what everyone eats in this building. Ranger's orders."

"Oh."

"He is a health nut. Working out is mandatory for everyone too."

Hm. Perhaps not my kind of a workplace, then.

After finishing breakfast, Lester kept his word and drove me to my apartment. The drive was tense, but only on my part. Lester kept chattering, but I did notice that despite his constant talking, he revealed nothing essential about Ranger or his business.

I was busy thinking how to make sure that Ranger and I were now… um, in good terms?

Maybe I should just channel denial.

So when the car's engine turned down, I cleared my throat awkwardly and readied myself to run. "Thank you for –"

Lester caught my hand. "Ranger's a man with a few wrinkles on his soul."

"Don't we all have s-"

"I understand that the last 24 hours has been rough... But… would you like to have a dinner with me sometime?"

I froze. Getting involved with criminals would be stupid. I was pretty sure that once you got in, back-peddling was practically impossible.

"I'm dating someone."

"Oh really." His reply was rather dry. My bluffing needed improving.

"In a long run honesty hurts less than lies," he said quietly.

What could I say? Suggest leaving his job?

"I'm a lesbian!" I blurted, panicking. "Seriously, the thing between your legs does nothing for me. Just a warm sausage, that's all."

He laughed shortly and looked out of the car window. "Ok, I get it. You just can't date Latinos. Well, you did seem too good to be true."

Damn. How does one turn down a mafia fella politely?

"As if your origin would make a difference to me," I sighed.

"Then why won't you go out with me?"

"I... It's…"

"STEPHANIE!"

Lester and I turned our heads to see furious Joseph Morelli marching down the street toward us. He was wearing his police uniform. Before I could curse, he yanked the car door open from my side and lifted me out.

"Hey!" I protested.

"What the hell are you doing?! Are you stupid!" he yelled and dared to give me a little shake.

"What I'm doing? What are_ you_ doing?!" I yelled back.

Lester was fast to follow us. "What's a cop doing treating a woman like that?" he asked and pointed a gun (!) at Joseph's face over the car roof. I blanched.

"Isn't that typical Rangeman behaviour," Joe whispered and pushed me aside to pull out his own gun.

"Stop it!" I ordered.

"Stephanie, what are you doing with him? And where the hell are your shoes?!" Joe asked, never breaking eye contact with Lester.

"He just gave me a ride."

"'Just gave a ride'? From where? And are those even your clothes?"

I paused. I suspected it would be healthy both for me and Joe to leave out my night at Ranger's building. A counter attack, that's what I needed.

"I... My car broke down. And this man gave me a lift. I think the more relevant question is the disorder in your brain! You have no right to stalk me or touch me like that! I don't need baby-sitting!"

"Nice try, Cupcake. But your car is right there in the parking lot."

Before I could tell another lie, my body started to feel scratchy, then there was a low purr and _then_ there was Ranger, exiting a black Porsche. Shit! How did he even know what was going on?

"This just keeps getting better," Joseph sneered and pushed me now behind him. "What, you've been back for two days and already involved with these people? Great going, Steph. "

"What are you implying?" I muttered, half-angry at Joe's antics and half-scared of the black-clad Terminator approaching us. I tried to make myself small as possible, though Ranger must have seen me already.

"You people never do anything on your own, do you?" Joe said to Lester.

"It's called team-work," Lester said.

"Stephanie, call 911."

"No need for that," Ranger said calmly when he came to a stop a few feet from us. He and Lester exchanged glances.

"Why are you after Stephanie?" Joe went straight to business, keeping his gun steady.

"I'm not after her."

Silence followed.

"Looks like it's you who's after her," Lester snickered. "Are those papa Morelli genes finally kicking in?"

Lester sure knew where to push. I watched Joe warily. His father had been Trenton's public secret. An excellent police officer, a fiend of a father and a husband.

"You need a raid at your place?" Joe asked, raising his brow at Lester.

I could feel Ranger's eyes sliding over to me. I was careful to look anywhere but at his nerving blank face.

"I only give this one warning. You and your rats stay out of Stephanie's life," Joe said to Ranger. "She's not like your hookers. And she'll never be. So go get your dose of STDs somewhere else."

Interesting how Joe accuses me of low brain-activity, then antagonizes a man like Ranger like that. I teetered on running away. Maybe they'd shoot each other.

I winced when Ranger spoke to me. "You ok with him?" His voice was controlled, neutral.

"I'm fine alone, thank you," I said firmly, checking out my nails.

Joe laughed coldly. "Oh please. Alone? Do you have any idea what you've done, Stephanie? This man here," Joe waved his gun at Ranger, "is a trained killer. A killer with no morals. When a body travels down Trenton River, it's usually his doing. And now he knows where you live. Most likely where your family lives, too."

I massaged my arms as if a gust of cold wind had just blown. Would Ranger actually do something to my family? God knows my mother is Satan's next of kin, but the rest…

I finally raised my head at Ranger's direction. He stood his feet slightly apart, arms crossed at his chest loosely, giving a peculiar aura of both danger and carelessness. He turned his head immediately at me when I looked at him, and stared with those unreadable brown eyes. I swallowed. Maybe I was already too much involved, a date with Lester or not.

It was a devastating feeling when Joseph Morelli might be right.

"I'll go if you go," Ranger said suddenly to Joe. Say what…? Why did it sound like I was suddenly a pawn in their game?

"Yeah, that's not going to happen. She's coming with me."

"Yeah well, she doesn't' want to," Lester pointed out.

"No! I'll go with him."

Both Ranger and Lester turned to look at me, Lester surprised.

"Thank you for the ride, Lester," I said and took an eager step toward Joe's car.

Joe wasn't done, though.

"Before we go… I want you to keep your word on this, Manoso. Stay out of Stephanie's life. Promise this, or your gang of toddlers gets it."

How come Joe does this? Is this how negotiating with dangerous people was taught in his police training?

I had to interfere before we both ended headless. "Ranger and his men just corrected me on something rather trivial. I'm sure we're on the same page right now, aren't we?"

I fixed eyes with Ranger. Now I could tell he was calculating something. His facial movements were minuscule, but his eyes, damn those eyes, simmered. He replied quickly.

"Yeah, we're on the same page. _See you around, Babe_."

And then he flashed a devious smile.

Joe let out a string of curses.


	6. NO PEACE AROUND HERE!

**6. NO PEACE AROUND HERE!**

* * *

><p><em>Should've known where the man was at<em>

_should've known he was gonna make me_

_I should've recognized the plan o'attack _

_when he turned and he called me baby! _

**Something Kinda Ooh** by **Girls Aloud **

* * *

><p>"Never, ever speak to them again."<p>

"It wasn't intentional. We came across each other by accident."

"But it had something to do with your new job, right?" Joe's hands were squeezing the steering wheel like it was an almost empty toothpaste tube. I quirked an eyebrow. Why such an emotional outburst? Not like we were in a relationship.

I sighed and placed my head against the car window.

Surprisingly, Morelli spoke no further and started driving across Burg.

And how was Burg? The houses with their white picket fences slid past looking as usual, but was there any kind of awareness of the criminal crack in their realm? Did America's finest know about Ranger and his men? And if they did, what was their reaction to them? The Italian mafia was a part of Burg's history, and despite their illegal ways, strangely accepted. But Ranger and his people differed vastly from the, uh, cultured culprits. For example, the Italian mafia used always suits, even when slaying people. And that kind of old-fashioned style often overrode moral values in Burg. As sick as it was.

I fell out of my thoughts when Morelli parked in front of a typical Burg house.

I turned to look at him. "Joe. Why are we at my parents' place?"

"They didn't know you were back in town."

"And now they know? Because you told them?"

"I asked where you were staying. So imagine their surprise."

Indeed.

Joe nodded toward the house. "You should meet them."

"I hope you realise, that after tonight, you have no reason to contact me. Not even talk to me."

"And we both know how well that will turn out."

"Goodbye, Joe," I said curtly and rose out of his car.

"I'll pick you up in two hours!" he yelled after me.

Ha. Sure he dares to yell, but we'll see about that _picking_. I'd rather walk home.

My fingers curled into fists as I marched forward, readying myself for torture.

* * *

><p>My parents were sitting in the living room. Dad reading a paper, mother knitting.<p>

"Oh look. It's Stephanie Plum. The runaway daughter."

My brows rose in shock, actually. Mother spoke stoically, like that Ranger fella. Her face was impassive, too. She must've rehearsed. Underneath she had to be itching to screech, to question, to lecture.

"Long time, no see," father greeted.

"Hiya, dad."

"My baby!"

That was Grandma Mazur. She appeared at the top of the second floor stairs and ran down to hug me. I hugged her back. Even though she was a senior citizen, her hold on me slowed down my breathing.

"Let's go have a girls' night tonight! Vodka for all!" she beamed.

And just like that, mother's cool exterior cracked. "You'll do no such thing!" she hissed, knitting needles flying all over the place. One flew behind father's paper and he yelped in irritation.

"What will the neighbours say?"

"As if she never drinks…," father snickered quietly.

"I'd love to. But not today. I have to do my job first and after yesterday I'm already pretty exhausted…," I smiled apologetically.

"Girl, don't you worry. We can celebrate later. I have a new job too," grandma whispered.

"Oh?"

"As a dancer."

"Oh?"

"See."

She opened the top of her blouse, showing me a black bra, sparkling with jewelry.

"Oh?"

"I did some strip-dancing in my youth and decided to revive the talent. I sent an application and pics and damn, they wanted me immediately."

I looked over at my mother, who was doing her best to lean forward without falling off the couch in order to hear what we were hushing about.

"You have a job here, Stephanie? Is that why you returned?" mother asked in suspicion.

"Yes," I answered, feeling grandma putting something that felt like a small glass bottle into my cargo pants, right next to Bvlgari.

"Well, what kind of a job?"

"Consulting." Isn't that today's magic word?

"What kind of consulting?"

"Life coaching."

"Oh."

I suspected that if the coaching didn't include getting a marriage license, it was useless to my mother.

"That's nice," father said and turned his paper's page. He was lying. But father was nice that way.

"Are you married?" mother asked.

She never disappointed. I decided to tease a little.

"Yes. I am."

Loud gasping. "How could you do that to Joseph Morelli! He's been waiting for you all this time! And why wasn't I invited to the wedding?"

"Well, that's Morelli's problem. And we kept the ceremony secret."

Mother's jaw dropped. "You've become so cold!"

"Says the mother who thinks women are nothing but servants to men!"

"I don't think that. I have never –"

"Then why, after years without seeing each other, your first questions regard my marital status?"

"Because that's what people do."

"People also shoot each other. Mother, you should have thought something before you had children."

"And what's that?"

"That they might not be like you. You can't live through your children. Maybe you should have created a career. That way you'd have something else to do than knit your socks and wonder when you can call your friends because your daughter has done something worthwhile, aka popped a child!"

Woah. This was the first time disappointment in each other in this relationship was expressed both ways.

And like a true Burg person, mom dodged my emotional outburst.

"What's the man's name?"

I sighed.

"The name's Rex. He owns a security company."

And bam, I was outta there. With me, I snatched mother's health sandals.

* * *

><p>With simmering anger, time flew and despite traveling by foot, I was home in no time.<p>

There was a note on my door.

**"BITCH. WE WILL MEET AGAIN."**

Hm? Was this how neighbours were welcomed in this building? Well, they'd better upgrade their swagger. I've seen worse.

When I tried to put my key in the lock, I realised I hadn't had the time to take my keys with me yesterday, but then I noticed the door was already slightly open. Slowly, I pushed it inwards.

"Wha…. what the hell?"

The awful sight in front of me…!

My beautiful apartment! My beautiful furniture! My –

Scratch that! My _landlord's_ beautiful apartment and furniture! ALL DESTROYED WITH RED PAINT!

Who does this?

I ran around the apartment in tears, horrified, for a good time, before I managed to calm down and rationalize.

Paint. Maybe it could be removed. I touched my couch to see had the red colour dried out, and frowned when it felt slick, too slick, between my fingers.

I blew my nose snot-free and smelled the red substance. Blood. Of course, my apartment had been sloshed with blood!

Just now I started to grasp the surrounding environment. The traffic outside, someone walking in the hallway… And the plausible personality traits of the person who had done this.

As I made a quick turn to escape this infernal predicament, I slipped on the blood. I fell and landed on my back, feeling my clothes suck the redness right in.

I changed my plan.

I rose and shed my clothes, took a blanket, a kitchen knife and an encouraging sip of Grandma Mazur's vodka she had given me and lay down on the floor.

If it was O'Brien after my head, I would be ready.

* * *

><p>I woke to a swish of air caressing my hair. My front door had been opened.<p>

I opened my eyes. It was darker. I lifted my head from the floor to see better.

A rather familiar mountain stood before me. Ranger.

Shit.

Motherfucker, shit satan shit.

Motherfucker.

My humiliation was now complete.

Unless I was imagining the man. It was likely, I had been working on the edge of my sanity. It was only natural if complications followed. Hallucinations.

I closed my eyes.

Though. It was… as if something was touching my ankle? Most likely a mere spider. But what kind of? There were poisonous out there somewhere.

I opened my eyes again.

Shit motherfucker satan shit.

There he was. Living Ranger, now crouched at my feet, eyes fixed on me like I was the intruder here.

"What do you want?" I asked, sounding hollow.

No answer. At least he wasn't laughing.

"You want your clothes? Here!" I picked the black Ranger clothes and threw them at his annoying blank face. Something else flew with them, landing with a soft thud on Ranger's forehead. The Bvlgari bottle.

I had underestimated humiliation. Obviously, the rock bottom could always get deeper.

"Well. I am a kleptomaniac. Happy now? I seriously don't understand why you bother scaring me."

"I came to see if Morelli was around." His voice was rough. Like he had climbed out of his own tomb an hour ago… and my place was the first place he had wandered into. And now realized what a bad decision it had been.

"Well, he isn't. Ta-ta!" I said and slid the blanket over my head.

_Please, go away…_

"You don't get rid of me that easily," Ranger whispered and took the blanket, exposing my serious state of undress.

I grunted and flung forward, latching myself onto Ranger, covering his eyes with my hand.

"Don't look!" I ordered, trying to reach the Rangeman shirt with my other hand.

"I've seen women before."

What…?

I looked at his face. Was he smiling?

He was.

"I hope they were willing," I said dryly.

He kept smiling. Suddenly I became aware of his skin against mine, warm and smooth. I guess I was really craving for a touch, because my mind travelled into a tropical beach. Ranger stopped existing; it was someone else with me sitting there in the white sand. Someone who could understand or at least tried to understand the many shades of life, was passionate… God damn, would be so very real.

"So… you don't know where Morelli is?"

I blinked out of my daydream and noticed I had wrapped my hands around Ranger, embracing him. My cheek against his chest. I could hear his steady heartbeat.

I cleared my throat, using my scary low voice (I had developed one with inebriated clients) and looked into his brown eyes. "I'm going to run into the bathroom and get dressed. You better not look and be out of my apartment when I return."

He nodded.

With last pieces of dignity, I slowly walked away from the statue man. Ranger was just one person. No harm done.

When I closed the bathroom door, I looked around and even whistled the theme of Bridge on the River Kwai. Then checked out my nails.

Ugh, who was I kidding, humiliation was eating me alive!

Distract yourself, woman!

I hopped into a shower and started a thorough beautifying routine; lathering, shaving… whilst thinking about the oppressive topics of the planet earth. It gave me some perspective. I used to be active in animal rights. Now I was active in baking.

Fine, active _in eating_ baked things.

When I believed my path was clear and staggered out of the bathroom, Ranger, who had been waiting behind the bathroom door like the deceiving snake he was, tripped me by nudging me in the back of my knees, and when I was about to tumble down to the floor, he lifted me atop his shoulder like a decoration to a Christmas tree and started to march briskly out of my apartment.

"You have some nerve…" I hissed. "It's not even night and you come to harass me, again? I have a problem to solve."

"You lay on your floor like a deceased with a kitchen knife. Didn't look like rational problem-solving to me."

I wanted to retort back, say something really hurtful, if I only knew what verbal insult could make a difference to this man, but when we ascended the stairs I could see from my point of upside-down view the outline of a gun inside his pants, straining against the cargo fabric. And somehow that made me shut my mouth.

* * *

><p>AN: I know! I am nothing but a lazy bum!


	7. Pots and Kettles

A/N: Finally, onwards!

**7 Pots and Kettles**

The second ride to Ranger's quarters was an upgrade from the previous. This time I had a bathrobe and I was riding shotgun. I was almost warm.

Ranger said nothing during the ride. When I decided to open my mouth, he turned on the car radio. Classical.

At his apartment he left me waiting on his sofa, ordering to stay until he returned.

I actually waited. Somewhere in the middle of this disastrous situation I had subconsciously started to lean on the fact that perhaps Ranger's initial intention wasn't to end my days and the thought was now at last surfacing. And as much as I hated to admit it, I did own my life to his "company". I should offer my gratitude to him. Plus, dare I even think about it, I could profit from Rangemen. They'd watch my back if needed and I'd give them a reasonable share of my skip fees.

Ah, Ranger was taking his time. I slumped on the couch.

A conversation woke me. It was Ranger and another muscle-bound man around the kitchen aisle.

"I believe she's in shock. O'Brien attacked her, though it seems he didn't manage to do any physical damage. According to Santos, she appeared shaken, acting irrationally after the encounter. Not long after that someone had turned her home into a mess, and she was lying on her floor, lucid."

Then, "Could you give her a sedative?"

The other man murmured something, shuffling through a thing resembling a medical kit.

My eyes widened into saucers. Ranger wanted to drug me? The bastard. Here I was, ready to try a civilized conversation, even thank him, while he plans to render me unconscious. And then sell my kidneys? I doubted that the Dr. Mengele there practiced some serious doctor ethics.

So in another escape attempt, the men's back to me, I tippy-toed my way to the front door, finding it unlocked. And the hallway was empty! I took the stairs, cursing the seven floors. Finally I landed my feet on the parking lot and made a quick dash to the lot's door.

Except the POS of a door wasn't opening when I jumped, waved and practically kept a short aerobics class in front of it.

It didn't operate on motion detectors.

Shit. I didn't have time to find out if there was another door out.

Maybe I could _crash_ this one open. I turned and eyed the vehicles.

"Hi, Stephanie."

Someone had appeared to rain on my parade.

"Lester."

"Got tired of Ranger already?"

"Yes. He's… persistent."

Lester looked around the spacious garage and glided his fingers over an SUV's roof next to him. "You planning to go somewhere?"

We both knew the answer to that, so I said nothing.

"Shouldn't you take a shower first? Would make you feel better."

"As you can see, I already took a shower." I sighed. "So I shall not pass?"

I felt defeated, pathetic. Must've looked like it too. Weighing my shoulders down, the heavy robe was enhancing the rag doll impression I was giving.

"Sorry."

"Would it be that horrible to let me go? I'm sure you have plenty of better things to do than babysit me. No one would even know how I left."

"Uh. The cameras."

"Oh. Of course."

"You don't have to return to Ranger, though. Maybe you'd like to meet us instead."

"And by _us_ you mean..?"

"The Rangemen."

There was no need to ponder my options, I followed Lester to the fourth floor.

"This is our break room. Guys, this is Stephanie Plum."

Lester stood back to give me space to enter the room filled with men in black.

In my mind I had pictured exactly what I was now seeing, and yet, when suddenly surrounded by the fit Rangemen tribe, I was speechless. I felt flustered. Hot. I tried to scoff at my lustful glee and nodded a forced greeting. They were individuals, after all. Having their break. They didn't need my objectification. But if names were given, they flew past me.

Lester gave me a cup of coffee and guided to sit me on a sofa. He eyed my dazed appearance.

"You must be cold. Here, let me."

Before I could protest, he took my legs into his lap and curled his fingers around the ankles. It was an awkward position. I stayed stiff as a stick, afraid that the bathrobe would part. Lester however found such a spot in my heel that I soon let out a long moan and forgot the critical clothing situation. I surrendered my neck over the sofa's armrest.

The men's quiet chatter and the hot cup of coffee added to the comfort. A girl could get used to this.

"I never apologized for tazing you," I said after a while.

"You were defending yourself. Nothing to apologise for."

I looked at him through half-closed eyes. He was staring right back, looking serious. I blushed for some odd reason, became ashamed of my blushing and then blushed even more. Jesus.

Then the door opened. It was only me who jumped at the sight. Others merely watched when Ranger stepped forward and focused his eyes onto me and Lester.

Behind him was Mengele. He had a syringe with him.

Lester groaned. "Always the subtle one."

The man behind Ranger started to laugh. "I think she's calm enough."

"What do you think you're doing, Santos?" Ranger asked. His expression and the tone of his voice didn't belie emotions, but the spoken words made it known that he was irritated.

"Offered some civilized company to Miss Plum here. Unlike others."

"Mats, 6 A.M."

The air around us tensed. What was "mats"? A code?

I looked at their interaction with interest. Lester went back to his massaging, but I guessed his chin was a bit too high for Ranger's liking.

Ranger soon chose to look at me. I dropped my gaze to Lester's fingers.

"When you're finished, bring her back to seven," Ranger eventually stated and made a move to leave.

"Do I have to?" I whispered to Lester.

"I'll come with you."

Ranger turned back to us. "Santos. As a disciplinary action, you're suspended for two weeks."

"What, because of me?" I asked. "No need to._ I_ want to leave this place right now. Problem solved."

"Not possible."

"Not possible?" Lester released my legs. I guess I emitted frustration that could lead to senseless behaviour, something that Lester had already once witnessed.

"We'll have our discussion first," Ranger replied, only his lips moving.

"But there's nothing to discuss."

"You're coming with me, _now_."

I took Lester's handcuffs and a made quick move to cuff myself to an office chair nearby. "I repeat, I'm not going anywhere with you. I stay here."

"Santos, the key!"

I looked at Lester. He hesitated.

"The chair isn't irreplaceable." Ranger then whispered, his voice a bit menacing now. He walked toward me.

Hm. A rather drastic action to wreck a chair. Unless he was going to chop off my wrist.

I scowled, crouched, ready to defend myself.

The fight never got started, though. The door opened and a leather-clad female entered the room. She was fit as a Rangeman. An expensive perfume invaded the air as she strode forward, mastering sky-rocketing high heels like they were comfortable sneakers. Her blonde hair was in a bun, high-lighting her sharp cheek bones.

"You busy?" she asked, looking at me with no real interest. "I came to discuss the Saturday's distraction."

Ranger took a glance at me and decided a more important issue was at hand, for he nodded and led her out of the room.

"Is she a skip?" I heard her asking when the door closed after them. A reasonable question. I was not having the finest moment of my life.

"Lester, if you will?" I rattled the cuffs.


End file.
